


The Fourth

by coveredbyroses



Series: The Porn Wars [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fingerfucking, Mildly Dubious Consent, Outdoor Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 21:16:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19980622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: You hook up with a mysterious stranger at a local 4th of July Celebration.





	The Fourth

The grass is dry and scratchy even underneath the old blanket splayed out underneath you. You really don’t mind though, don’t mind the way his muscled weight is pressing you harder against the earth, the way the hardness of his belt buckle - and the ridge of his dick - is pressing into the skin of your belly where the hem of your shirt has hitched up.

Vibrant greens, reds, and gold spark and flash across the inky sky, and you’re vaguely aware of the marveling oohs and ahhs and cheers at the fiery display, but it’s all empty static compared to the smoldering in your gut and the deep, wet ache between your legs.

Velvety hot lips brush at the sleek slope of your neck, one hand jammed underneath your jean shorts and panties, a single finger knuckle-deep in your slick cunt. He’s thrusting slow and deep, the thick heel of his hand flush with your pulsing clit. A muscled forearm lines your head, and you’ve got your hand clamped around the hard breadth of his bicep as he works you high and tight.

He levels his lips with yours, just breathes hot and spicy against you, mouth tugging up at the corner as unblinking eyes drag over the pleasure pulling at your features. They’re green, you think, thought you’d caught a glimpse of a deep, dark jade under a flickering flash.

He starts to pump faster, sets his tongue between gleaming teeth as a moan rolls up from your chest. “‘Bout to set off a few fireworks of my own,” he says, and god, that’s cheesy - even from him - but the guy knows what he’s doing, could say anything he wanted right now and you’d still be reduced to the gasping, panting mess you are. “Can’t have you comin’ on just one finger though,” he glitters. “Girl like you deserves to be stuffed _full_.”

That has you clenching, and you groan loud enough that he shifts on his arm so he can fit his massive palm over your mouth. “Better keep quiet, honey. There’re _children_ here.” His grin is almost glowing out here in the near-dark, and it’s almost malicious, makes you a little too aware that you’re pinned underneath so much heat and muscle.

You nod into the meat of his hand, eyes wide and pleading. A second finger nudges up against the first, and fresh fire unfurls in your belly as he works it in just as deep. You’re wet enough that you can feel a trickle of your own slick rolling down underneath the hem of your shorts, sneaking down the soft curve of your thigh.

He peels his palm from your lips, then ducks down to lick into your mouth just as he starts to thrust his fingers, tongue flicking and slipping over yours in a matched rhythm with every squelching-wet pump. Your hips start to buck and twitch as much as his weight will allow, makes your clit rub and spark against his hand.

He breaks away, lips puffed, the tip of his nose a faint brush against yours. “That’s it, baby,” he huffs. “Fuckin’ work for it.”

You get your hands on his shoulders, fingers curling into the tight stretch of his t-shirt while his own curl deep in your cunt. “Please - oh, god-” you hiss, eyes squeezed shut as the simmering pleasure crescendos.

A third finger wriggles its way in, and you breathe jerky as you adjust and stretch around him. He’s kissing you again before you can make a sound, lips sucking and pulling at your own. You draw your knees up, plant your feet on the blanket so you can lurch up harder-

“Oh, fuck yeah,” he grunts. “Y’gonna come? Yeah, y’are. Fuck.” You’re squeezing his fingers so hard he’s having trouble fucking them in, so he shifts, shoves in as deep as he can and then _vibrates_ his massive arm so his fingers are trembling into the soaked heat of you.

“Oh!” Your voice is a strained squeak as you shake and undulate underneath him, his palm a hot grind against your clit and - one… two …three-

And, in perfect timing, you’re exploding along with the Grand Finale; muscles locked and cunt rippling as wave after wave of the most _delicious_ heat crashes over you.

He pulls his fingers free as the blood pounds in your ears, slips them between your lips and over your tongue until you’re nearly gagging at the brush of fingertips at your throat. You lick and suck at your own taste, groaning. He glimmers as the last few fireworks crack and boom across the velvet curtain of night, grin blinding.

“Damn, baby,” he says, and a nearby car’s headlights flick to life. A smile freezes and dies on your face because he blinks then, olive eyes flooded oily black.

“I’m Dean,” he beams. “Whaddya say we get outta here?”


End file.
